Hit and Run
by Excellently-Elementary
Summary: It had started out to be a decent day. But that soon changed when one of the BAU's own becomes a hostage at a federal bank. Who is responsible, and will they be able to save everyone? My version of the season seven finale. Team and slightly Reid-centric.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Greetings! I hate school ****immensely; they pile so much work on you. I mean, I don't really mind it all that much, but when it gets between me and my labtop... **

**Let's just say it's not pretty. :|**

**LOL. But, seriously, I am mad at my teachers. They're pretty 'hardcore' when it comes to handing out assignments. I just finished a volcano project for science, and now I have to do a Civics project. I mean, seriously! Give us a break!**

**-Rant Over-**

**Sorry about that. Well, that's one reason why I haven't been able to upload. The other is that I have started to become extremely addicted to NCIS and White Collar. I blame it on Netflix. **

**Okay, last reason: I am so anxious for the season finale! I'm flipping out here, people. This is my first year watching Criminal Minds, because I just recently turned old enough to watch it, (curse you, parents), so I have never been 'cliffed' before. And I watched most of the older season finales, and they were amazing! So I'm really excited and completely unable to focus! **

**So, I have written what I believe will/should/would-be-cool-if-it-will occur in the season finale. This will be three to five chapters long. Some parts are based on the promotional pictures, but others are just my imagination. **

**Warnings FTC (For This Chapter): Nothing much. But there will be some whumpage and angst coming up. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, CBS, or the name for the season seven finale!**

**Enjoy~**

* * *

**Hit and Run**

**Prologue**

* * *

**A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.**

**-Christopher Reeve**

* * *

"Emily Prentiss," Erin Strauss greeted, the aged face set in her infamous frown, "you did fantastic work on this case. But I am disappointed with your sudden departure; I hoped you would have chosen to stay with the BAU,"

She sighed, the hidden sadness in her eyes not going unnoticed by the team.

"However, you are a well respected agent and I do respect your decision. I sincerley hope you at least come by every once in a while," Strauss didn't wait for any acknowledgment, just simply ascended up the stairs and into her office once more.

"Well, that was different," Rossi joked, sending Emily a charming smile.

"You can say that again," she murmured, still a bit dazed. Did Erin Strauss just _compliment_ her? And then ask her to come visit occasionally?

The team was casually sitting around, enjoying the feeling of success. They had just returned from Iowa where young females where being brutally murdered and sexually assaulted, but the killer's spree had only lasted for a day before the BAU was called. The team had worked exceptionally well, Hotch decided, but the hero of the day was Emily Prentiss. She had asked the most insightful questions, helped Reid with his geographic profile, and took down the UnSub. Garry Richards, a delusional man killing women who resembled his deceased wife, had taken the poor girl hostage when they burst through his front door- literally.

The man's eyes were frantic and awfully guilty, some part of his mind probably realizing that holding a young woman hostage with a knife held to her throat wasn't exactly orthodox behavior. Prentiss had handled the situation with ease, and the only one who had walked away injured was Richard, due to his angry outburst and the thin line of blood he made drip down the poor woman's throat. His leg would take some time to heal from the bullet Prentiss had shot him with; when he came out of surgery, Richards had apologized immensley and confessed to all three murders.

The case had wrapped up quite nicely, and Hotch was extremely proud of his team for stopping a killer before he got a chance to really get started.

With a hidden smile on his face, he headed up to his office to finish up the last of his paperwork.

* * *

May 16, 2012; 12:34 P.M.

"Seriously?" Reid heard someone whisper, clearly frustrated if the attitude in their voice was anything to go by.

Morgan had also noticed it, and they silently gazed at each other for a second.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, but Reid just shrugged his shoulders.

Hearing another groan, they simultaneously turned their heads toward Prentiss's desk and saw her staring intently at the monitor, swearing under her breath.

"Stupid bank," She suddenly glared towards them, feeling their curious stares on her desk.

They immediately began to fiddle with random objects on their desks, trying to ignore the death-glare she was sending the both of them.

Prentiss sighed, shook her head, and called out, "Are any of you guys done with your paperwork, yet?"

"Nope, I still got a ton of work to do. But, I'm not so sure about Pretty Boy here," Morgan stuck a thumb in Reid's direction, smirking with pleasure as the younger agent's head snapped up from the book concealed under his desk.

"What? I have tasks to complete, as well, Morgan. I'm not just lounging around," he spoke confidently, silently challenging Morgan. He did not want to go with Emily; she looked down-right angry. And an angry Emily never did bode well with his future.

"Then why are you just 'lounging' around with a book in your lap?" Reid cursed mildly under his breath before reluctantly standing.

"What do you need me to do, Emily?" He asked, awkwardly stretching his legs to try and get them back to normal after sitting cross-legged for an hour or so.

"I need you to come to the bank with me. The transaction for the new house I'm getting had some difficulties, so I have to stop by there and work them out," she explained while grabbing her bag and sunglasses.

Reid nodded and obediently followed her to the elevators.

**xOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOox**

Spencer Reid aimlessly wandered into Marine Federal Credit Union, admiring the pristine chandelier hanging from the ceiling, white tiled floors and fancy paintings delicately placed on the walls. Tall, brown desks were on the far side of the room with employees sitting behind them, either on their phones or paying attention to their customers. Lights shined brightly overhead, leaving not one area of the bank dark.

Customers scurried around, trying to deposit or withdrawal or do something pertaining to money.

Reid sadly shook his head; was money all these people cared about?

He noticed an old man to the left of the room, admiring the paintings with warm, brown eyes while he chatted to someone on his cell phone. A married couple was patiently waiting in line, a little girl with curly, blonde hair in between them. There was only two people in front of them, a young man with a backpack on his shoulders and holding a couple of textbooks, probably a student nearby. A woman was in front of him, busily chatting with the employee stationed at the desk.

"Re-id," He suddenly heard a low, sing-song voice coming from in front of him.

Prentiss's hand was waving in front of his face, probably trying to catch his attention.

"Yeah?"

She grinned and chose not to comment on how easily he zoned out.

"I forgot something in the car. I'll be right back, okay?"

He nodded and watched as Prentiss stepped out of the glass doors, letting some spring breeze flow through the room.

Reid turned his head away from the doors and noticed someone leaning against a large pillar near a corner. Looking into the slightly dim shadows, he felt a sudden wave of panic flow through him.

There were three people, casually hanging out in the corner with one foot on the wall and their arms crossed in front of them, all wearing hoodies.

A younger man, probably no older than himself, was the only one that appeared to be nervous. Unlike the others, his "relaxed" postion was tense and rigid. His blue eyes darted around the bank nervously. He looked like he was waiting for something.

Or someone.

Hearing the sliding glass doors open again, he turned around, expecting to be greeted by Prentiss, but was instead greeted by a cold sensation on his forehead.

"Well, hello," the woman greeted, her blonde hair slightly shining from the rays of sunlight coming through the windows.

He gulped and looked at the woman. She was just a few inches shorter than Reid himself with wavy hair that reached her shoulder blades. She was wearing casual clothes- nothing more than a black hoodie and a pair of dark blue jeans. She appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hazel eyes stared mischievously at him, and if she was not holding a revolver to his forehead, he would have considered her to be quite attractive.

"This is a robbery," Her voice held no nervousness, no stuttering, no yelling. She said it in almost a whisper, the arrogance practically dripping out of her mouth.

He gulped once again and briefly wondered when Prentiss would be coming back.

* * *

**Dun, Dun, _Duuun_.**

**This is merely the prologue, so the next chapter will be more about the hostage situation, and will include all of the team members.**

**I wish I could write more but I have to go to bed. Sad-face.**

**Oh, wait, the Marine Federal Credit Union is a federal bank in Quantico. I have no idea what it looks like, so I just, once again, used the power of imagination. **

**P.S.: There is a poll on my profile about which story I should finish first. Let me know which one I should do. (:**

**Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think~**


	2. Chapter One: The First Hit

**A/N: Good afternoon, readers of the awesome site that is fanfiction! I saw the 'promo' for the season seven finale, and it did look kind-of cool. But it was also a bit disappointing; they always trick you into thinking it's a member of the team in a hostage situation or in trouble, but then it's really Strauss or Will or something. And I have no problem with that, it's just it would have been cool if, like, Reid or Emily or an actual profiler was in trouble. Maybe they will be, I'm not entirely sure. Nonetheless, I am still excited for next week! I mean, it's two hours of Criminal Minds. How could you not be excited? :D**

**On another note: I recently found out how many readers I have for my stories, and I'm actually really surprised. I have 11k readers for my first story and this one already has a couple hundred! I am very touched, and I'm not sure if a couple of hundred views is "good", but it's really great for me. Thank you all so much for checking out my stories!**

**Warnings: Nothing for this chapter. Just a lot of spoilers for Season Seven and one for Season Two.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

**This is the first part of two chapters. This one is just kinda' angsty and on Emily's POV during the past few months and the situation at hand. The next part has some Reid-whumpage, a lot more angst, OC-whumpage, and some pretty interesting UnSubs. Stay Tuned for the next installment! It will be uploaded tonight.**

**_Geranimoooo_! (I regret nothing.)**

* * *

**Hit and Run**

**Chapter One: The First**

* * *

**Guilt upon the conscience, like rust upon iron, ****both defiles and consumes it, gnawing and creeping into it, **

**as that does which at last eats out the very heart and substance of the metal.**

**-Bishop Robert South**

* * *

May 16, 2012; 1:30 P.M.

Emily Prentiss has had the "pleasure" of experiencing true guilt before. Not the kind of guilt where a young child has stolen a cookie from the cookie jar and later, feeling remorseful, apologized to their parents, but an extreme level of guilt. The kind of guilt that made your insides churn and your head spin, while you say there was nothing you could do. That that one decision was your last resort, and there was no changing the past.

She often felt like that when she had faked her death to protect not only herself, but her team and a boy named Declan. When she had looked at all of their faces at her funeral, she had to physically put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from calling out to them, to tell them to stop grieving over her because she was right there, sitting inside her car from across the street; trying to remember their faces so she would not forget about them- like she had so many childhood friends when she moved around constantly- during the weeks, months, or years she had to endure without their smiling faces or occasional, but heartfelt and sentimental, hugs.

And she had hung onto their tear-stained and down-cast faces, no matter how much it hurt to see them in that condition, so she could remind herself that once she was reuinited with them, she could make it up to them. She **would** make it up to them.

Then finally,_ finally_, she got her chance and was able to meet them face-to-face after an excruciating seven months. That meeting had been emotionally draining, and Emily had felt her mask begin to slide off her face when she looked at everyone's reactions. The guilt seemed to turn into an angry wasp-hive, the insects angrily injecting their stingers into her stomach, eventually flying their way up to her heart to make that dependent organ squishy and soft.

That had been months ago, but she still remembered their facial expressions; their reactions to discovering that Emily Prentiss was not dead, but very much alive and standing before them.

Garcia's tear-streaked face. JJ's relieved, blue eyes, finally void from all tension and stress she had held there for so long. Hotch's happy, dark eyes, but neutral body stance. Rossi's almost comical face, as if he were saying _I-told-you-so! _

Morgan and Reid's were the most difficult to remember, though. Not that she couldn't, but it was so heart-breaking and emotionally racking that she chose to push them into the darkest area of her mind, the one that held all of the victims she could not save, the _What-Ifs_, the memories from Benjamin Cyrus.

Reid's small whisper she had heard just before entering the conference room: _"But we burried her,"_ and Morgan's chocolate eyes resembling the grief and pain she remembered seeing when he told her how proud he was of her, and how she was so strong while holding her hands all those months ago.

Then, after being reassigned to the team, everything had taken a turn for the worse, (if that was possible.) Reid, her surrogate, geeky, little brother held such pain inside his eyes that she could not bear to look at him sometimes. She didn't blame him, of course, but she would have preferred if he had dumped all of his feelings of betrayal on her, instead of JJ. The younger blonde was simply obeying orders and protecting Emily. She did not lie to her friends about being dead. She did not send pictures to an ex-terrorist of his son playing dead while she held a gun in her hand to break him. She did not do anything but her job.

But Emily knew from personal experience, that sometimes, their jobs sucked. Big time.

However, she knew that he could not stay angry for long at her. After Reid yelled at her after during his post-Hankle-period, he baked cookies for her the next day; she wouldn't have been able to tell it was him who placed the surreptitious plate of treats on her desk if he had not anonymously signed the card in his sloppy handwriting.

So when they had dinner at Rossi's house- correction, _"Mansion"_- to unwind and fix each other's recent wounds, it was no surprise to her that Reid showed up, wearing a shy, goofy smile on his face.

Once again, things settled down at the BAU, and everyone went back to the stoic, FBI agents they were required to be while facing the _real_ monsters in the world: the rapists, the serial killers, the pedophiles, and countless more.

And the guilt had eventually died away along with all the hatred and tension she could physically feel in the room whenever she walked in.

But now, that same gut-wrenching feeling had returned, and no matter how many times she told herself it was not her fault, she couldn't help but to feel responsible.

_|Emily Prentiss started walking to the glass doors when she felt her sixth sense start to kick in. Her human instincts, to be more exact, and she couldn't help but slow down her pace as she approached said door. There was just something off._

_Prentiss immediately shook off the feeling of dread, chanting over and over again in her mind that there was nothing wrong. She would get the letter her real estate agent had sent to her from her car she had so foolishly forgotten, would set things right with the bank, and move into a beautiful house. No _if's_, _and's_, or _but's_ about it._

_She brought her hand to the front of the door, ready to push it open. Now she was physically starting to feel anxious; she could feel the tiny hairs on her arms begin to prickle, but once again dismissed her growing anxiety._

_Without looking back, she pushed open the door and was met with beautiful sunshine and a warm, spring breeze._

_She walked through the parking lot, and waved back to a young woman with silky, blonde hair as she passed._

_Approaching the bulky SUV, she briefly considered buying a smaller car once she moved. Perhaps one of those small, Lexus SUV's._

_She grabbed the letter that was in the small compartment near the passenger side and turned toward the direction of the bank._

_That's when she noticed a man come up to the glass doors and look outside, his fearful, brown eyes gazing around the parking lot. He appeared to be strangely composed, even though he looked to be in a bit of pain as the revolver dug into the back of his curly, brown hair. From this angle, though, she couldn't see the attacker's face._

_The man mouthed something with a regretful look on his face as he threw a large curtain over the entrance of the bank._

_She knew that look. But not only did she know that look, she knew that face._

_Only when she began to pull out her cell phone out of her pocket while attempting to sprint to the bank did she realize something._

_She should have listened to her instincts.|_

So here she was, her fingers limply holding her cellphone to her ear, not even noticing that she had sunk down on the sidewalk, her legs stretched out in front of her.

_"Hotchner,"_ Hotch greeted in his normal, professional tone.

"Uh, Hotch? We have. . . a situation."

She had zoned out a bit after that, her eyes permanently transfixed on the curtain blocking her and one of her best friends.

* * *

**Okay, that was the first part! The next chapter will be uploded shortly.**

**And, yes, Reid did not bake cookies for Prentiss after he yelled at her, but I thought it would be a kind-of off screen thing. Y'know, Reid showing up to work holding a package of half-burnt cookies in his hand, trying to sneak them onto Prentiss' desk. It would have been a cute moment between the two characters.(:**

**But, since that event did not occur, I just wrote it. 'Cuz it was cute and it fit.**

**Oh, yes, and context clues suggests that Reid pulled the curtain over the glass door. BUT WAS IT HIM!**

**Maybe. Maybe not.**

**Okay! It was! I admit it! **

**Thanks for reading and reviews are welcome!**


	3. Chapter Two: Let the Games Begin!

**A/N: Hello. Sorry about the extremely short chapter I updated yesterday. It didn't fit with this chapter, so I just let Prentiss have her own little moment. By the way, Reid mouthed _"Call Hotch" _before he shut the curtain. Just letting you know to get rid of unwanted confusion! Thanks for reading ad reviewing.**

**Warnings FTC: Reid-whump, crazy UnSub team, a bit of angst, mild reference to child abuse, and spoilers for Season 2 Episode 10 and 15, Season 6 Episode 2 and 18, and Season 7 Episode 12.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, or the name for the Season 7 Finale!**

**Sorry if there are any errors, I will fix them first thing in the morning!**

* * *

**Hit and Run**

**Chapter Two: Let the "Games" Begin!**

* * *

**If you're going to win games, you're going to have to come up with the big hits.**

**That's the bottom line.**

**-Derek Jeter**

* * *

May 16, 2012; 2:01 P.M.

Reid sat on the tile floor, observing the room. To his right sat the old man, an old-fashioned, brown fedora snugly around his head. He appeared to be calm for the most part. But he seemed to have some discomfort in his knee, rubbing it occasionally and wincing in pain every few minutes.

The college student was to his left, and he was the exact opposite. He kept rubbing at his face, fidgeting, and pulling on his short, blonde hair. Reid tried to calm him down, asking him his name and what school he went to. He told him he was Jeremy, and he had just started at the National University near Quantico.

In the furthest corner away from them sat the family and the middle-aged woman. The little girl was oblivious to the situation they were in, happily playing around with one of her stuffed animals as her mother kept stroking her curly hair. The father had his head on the wall with his eyes closed, trying to keep calm for the sake of his daughter.

The middle-aged woman had on a professional, black skirt and a fancy white blouse. If Reid had to guess, he'd say she was a lawyer, the way her bun was a bit too high and the glasses on her face perfectly clean. Other than that, the suitcase she was protectively clutching to her chest basically gave it away. She had tried to argue with their captors, but all it earned her was a gun pointed in her direction.

The UnSubs were positioned around the bank; a tall, menacing one right in front of Reid's little group, and an equally scary woman near the other group. They were all young and fit, maybe mid-twenties to thirties.

The youngest of the group was watching the front, barricaded door; probably just a tedious order the other UnSubs gave him as a way to get rid of him for awhile.

And the leader of the group was in the middle of it all, watching them with a pleased smile on her face. Reid could tell by the crazed look in her eyes that she was mentally ill; after all, he had seen that same look in his mother's eyes just before she was getting ready to attack a young Reid.

She looked as if she wanted nothing more than to watch the world burn down. But for now, he supposed, she would be content with watching them break and plead and crumble to the ground.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up and met the eyes of the leader. She smiled, and it appeared very, well... evil. As if she was watching her pray just before she-

"Stand up," she ordered, the revolver securely in her hand.

When he made no move to get up, she sighed. Without any warning, she swung the revolver, hitting him directly in the cheek, and Reid couldn't help but gasp slightly.

"I said," She was rocking back and forth on her feet, the smile still plastered onto her face, "Get. Up."

He got up calmly, not wanting to give this woman any more power than she felt she had.

"So," she started, sounding as if they were meeting in a Café,"What's your name?"

Reid just stared at her, feeling his eyes grow wider. _Did she just ask him his name?_

She narrowed her eyes, not wanting to play a game right now.

"I said," She threw him at the wall, ignoring the other hostage's horrified gasps, and planted a hand firmly on his chest, "What's. Your. _Name_?"

_Never antagonize an UnSub_, Hotch's voice from the academy reminded him, _especially a mentally unstable one._

"Spencer Reid," He looked into her eyes, appearing brave and confident.

"Oooh, I _like_ that name. Spen-ceer. Hmm. It needs something more to it, though. Some pizzaz!" Her voice was getting high with excitement, and she withdrew her arms away from Reid to throw them into the air to do a mild jazz hands.

"Spencer. Spence," Reid's heart stopped a bit at that. Only JJ called him Spence, and this UnSub was certainly not allowed to call him that.

But she didn't notice him, her left arm across her stomach and holding her right elbow, a finger on her lips.

"Oh, I got it!" she suddenly exclaimed, snapping her fingers, "Spence-_y_."

She drew out the "y", making her sound like a giddy five-year old.

"You don't care if I call you _Spencey_, do 'ya?"

Reid just shook his head, not ready to argue with the woman again.

She smiled, and was about to walk away to talk with her fellow fugitives, but his question stopped her.

"What's your name?"

She turned around, and slowly crept back to him, tracing a finger along his dark blue cardigan. He gulped, and forced himself to stay stoic.

"I knew I liked you, Spencey," she whispered, then turned away once more, but called out over her shoulder, "Selena."

**xOoOoOoOoOoOoOox**

Hotch looked out his passenger-side window, still in doubt. Reid had gotten in trouble even when he technically wasn't on the job. What did that say about Reid? Was Hotch putting Reid in danger by letting him work in the BAU? Was it better to just stick him behind a desk wrapped in bubble-wrap for the rest of his career? But he knew that Reid was an incredible agent, and being stuck behind a desk would definitely waste his talents.

However, what did that say about him? One of his agents got into yet another life-threatening situation. They had just gotten Prentiss and JJ back, and he knew Strauss wouldn't hesitate to take another one of his subordinates that were practically family members away from him, freak-accident or not. She knew nothing about all of the trials they had faced together. All she was concerned about was the job, not the people doing the job.

But, he did know what the older woman would think. _Irresponsible, unprofessional, reckless._ But that was more directed towards his entire team, not him as an individual. Maybe he wasn't cut-out for a Unit Chief. Maybe, he was putting his team in danger by leading them through dangerous situations with a bad leader.

Prentiss had filled him in on the situation by phone, but she didn't have to. One of the UnSubs had already informed the public, messaging local newspaper facilities and calling the media. No one didn't know about the seven hostages, one of them being a prestigious FBI agent, being held captive in a federal bank.

Hotch sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. They were being slowed down significantly by all of the traffic, no doubt curious citizens and nosy reporters.

And an angry, worried Morgan added with traffic never was a good thing. Especially for anyone ridding or within a few feet of him.

Which was why in the back of the large SUV sat a terrified Garcia, two seat belts crossed protectively over her torso. Hotch knew for a fact that it was a terrible idea bringing a technical analyst into a hostage situation, but they did need her to hack into the security footage. Plus, when her _Junior G-man _was in trouble, no one could reason with the uncharacteristically sassy woman.

JJ was to her left, also looking a bit pale; Hotch wasn't sure of whether or not it had to do with Morgan's reckless driving, or the fact that one of her best friends was trapped with possibly multiple psychopaths.

Rossi sat in the middle with Prentiss sitting next to him, both appearing very serious and professional. But Hotch could see the fear and chaos both of their dark eyes held. Prentiss's relationship with their resident genius was unique, and a lot stronger than Elle's. He knew that both of them were very close to each other, having a brother and sister relationship. Reid always came to Prentiss when he was angry or scared, and he wasn't afraid to vent to her. Prentiss also vented to Reid, only not as often. She was more of a secretive person- not that Reid wasn't- and could compartmentalize better than most people. But she wasn't really afraid of people knowing about her mental state, anymore. If they saw her cry, then they saw her cry. Over the past few months, all of them had grown stronger together, which was possibly the reason why Prentiss had let Hotch comfort her on the jet after the Piano Man case.

And even though Rossi wouldn't admit it, he knew the older man had a soft spot for Reid and his vast knowledge. He wasn't his mentor, of course, or even a father-figure, but he was an older, wiser friend who was almost like a super hero in Reid's eyes. Hotch and Rossi were both the role models of the team, being in the BAU longer and seeing more than the younger members had.

He still couldn't believe Reid had managed to get taken hostage. Of course, Hotch knew it wasn't his fault for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but how on Earth did someone get into so much trouble in a short lifetime? Reid always wondered why they were so very protective of him. Well, he was the youngest of them, and he was still young. Plus, he had faced so many things that he shouldn't have had to.

Hotch remembered when he was thirty; he had just joined the BAU, but he was growing used to the sick ways people could kill one another. Days were full of blood and sweat, empty coffee cups and Chinese food containers. Nights were the opposite. They were filled with sweet kisses and home-cooked meals, warm cuddles and talks of beginning a family with his wonderful wife, Haley.

But Reid's days were full of UnSubs that seemed to progress every year; nights full of nightmares and occasional phone calls from his mentally ill mother.

The more he thought about it, the more he thought how unfair life seemed. His team always got into the worst situations, and not just Reid. Morgan had been sexually abused when he was just finishing puberty. Prentiss had been nearly murdered by her kind-of ex-husband. Rossi had a pretty rough childhood, but an even worse time as an adult. JJ's sister had committed suicide when she was just eleven. And he, himself, had always tried to reason with his drunk father nearly every night.

Of course, the man never listened to reason, so he would often wind up on the kitchen floor, bruises and cuts decorating his face. He always told himself he would fight back next time, but whenever he could, he would willingly take the beating for his little brother, Sean.

And as an adult, his ex-wife, whom he was still in love with, had been shot in the head by his arch nemeses, Foyet. The deranged man had stabbed him nine times in his torso just months before Haley was killed, each stab drawing more blood. He still remained eye-contact, though- it was hard not to.

Then, that sick man had the courage to go after Aaron Hotchner's son; after he had just murdered Jack's mother under the same roof he was under. No one messes with his family and lives. Thankfully, Jack understood Hotch's secret message and had hidden right where he knew his Daddy wanted him to be, and Foyet left his house in a body bag.

The car suddenly lurched forward, and Hotch couldn't help but to gasp and shoot up in his seat. Looking over at Morgan, he realized that the younger man was in no shape to be driving. His knuckles were gripping the steering wheel so hard that his hands were becoming white from the lack of blood traveling through them, and his brows were furrowed, looking very determined.

Most of the traffic was gone, and Morgan had switched on the blue and red sirens. Hotch was about to tell him to slow down a bit when he spotted the bank coming closer.

**xOoOoOoOoOoOox**

Warm sunlight shone in through the curtains of the glass windows, reflecting off of the beautiful chandelier and giving the bank a rather angelic look. As angelic as a federal bank can be with four crazy people in it and seven captives, of course.

Everyone was starting to get a little anxious, each of them waiting for this to be over, or in Reid's case, his team to come. _Get here fast, guys. Please. _

Coincidentally, he noticed some movement coming out of the see-through curtains. None of the UnSubs noticed, though; all of them too busy whispering to each other. Selena's voice had rose every few minutes, her tone resembling a four year-old's on Christmas. Sadly, the others had shushed her before Reid could really understand what they were talking about.

Getting to his feet quietly, he walked over to one of the windows and lifted the curtain slightly, revealing a dark SUV pulling up. He felt relief flood over him, comforted by the fact that he wouldn't miss one of his best friend's wedding tomorrow.

They all stepped out and walked across the parking lot to shake the local police officer's hand. He watched their lips move, but couldn't make out what they were saying. He briefly conisdered banging against the window, but that wouldn't do anything. Except maybe land him in the morgue with a GSW to the head.

Hearing footsteps, he abruptly turned around to face the largest of the four UnSubs. He was tall, at least a few more inches taller than Reid, and was more muscular than Morgan. He had on a dark blue hoodie, along with black jeans. His hair was crazy and spiked, fashioned to look like a- _What were they called again? Oh, yeah._- fohawk.

But not only was he the largest of the group, he appeared to be the oldest, too. Early to mid thirties.

"What do you think you're doing?" he growled, clearly upset that one of his hostages got away from him.

"Oh, I was j-just-" Reid gasped as he felt himself being dragged by the front of his shirt.

The man was practically carrying Reid over to his old group. The grip the man had on his shirt made it hard to breathe, making Reid wheeze quietly.

The man tossed him onto the hard ground, his head connecting with the stone wall.

Moaning, he looked up, only to feel a fist connect with his jaw and his head whip to the side, hair falling out from behind his ear and covering his face. His head began to pound, but that didn't stop him from trying to lift it up. _It's all about the eye-contact, Kid_, he remembered Morgan telling him, _If you can look an UnSub right in the eye, they can immediately tell that you are in charge, not them._

He struggled, his head feeling like it wanted to explode. But he finally managed to bring his head to the wall behind him, letting it fall backwards with a thud.

And even though the force of the wall on his already sensitive head hurt extremely bad, he forced himself to not make a sound. He would not give this UnSub the satisfaction of watching one tear escaped from his swollen eye.

The man glared down at him, ready to raise his fist again to teach him some manners. But something behind him grabbed him and threw him onto the ground, the air leaving his lungs. He gasped, and noticed his partner gleefully stroll over to Reid and bend down in front of her captive.

"Ooh, big, bad, FBI Agent, huh? You strike me as the more brain-type of guy. But, hey, if you can glare at my man over there, I think you're pretty strong. Y'know, I know what it's like to frowned upon when it comes to things with, er... _physical activity_," She did a little motion with her hands, almost resembling a rainbow.

Reid glared back at her, finding her unamusing. He knew it wasn't smart to challenge her, but his head hurt and it was starting to get hard to think.

"'Cuz, you see, the funny part is, everyone in this world thinks that women are so _delicate_. Fragile, like we're made of glass, or something. We sit on the couch with a romance novel, or we cook cupcakes in the kitchen. Nothing else, right? Nothing _violent_. But, but! Looky at what I did! First, I," she glanced over at the toddler sitting on her mother's lap and lowered her voice a bit, "_K-I-L-L_ all those people. The-en, I hold a bunch of people hostage. Oh, and bonus points for the FBI Agent, am I right?"

She broke off, holding up a hand high in the air. He stared into her hazel eyes, his look not wavering at all. _Did she say she killed people?_ he thought, too stunned to get his lips to move. Mistaking his shock for defiance, she narrowed her eyes and raised the hand higher.

Hearing something connect with flesh, and then feeling a searing pain, he reached a hand to feel his cheek and noticed that it was hot to the touch.

She had just slapped him- rather hard, he might add- for not giving her a _high-five_ while he was shocked?

The woman glared down at him, and Reid couldn't help but to twitch his fingers a little.

"Hmph. Sooo, _Spence-y_, everyone thinks I have no muscles. But did you see how I flipped that guy over? Pretty impressive, huh? So, I guess," She stressed the "s" in "guess" longer than she should have, "people think I'm weak 'cuz I'm a girl."

"And, well, you look like a twig," She chuckled darkly- but it still came out high and girly- as she pointed to his thin body.

She suddenly leaned in close, practically sitting on top of him. Her blonde hair was now in his face, and Reid wanted nothing more than to be outside with his team right now.

"Do you know how easy it is to break a twig, _Spencey_?" she breathed in his ear, smirking with pleasure as he had to shift his eyes to the side.

One more minute of staring into those malice-filled eyes, and his composure would have been broken. He shifted his warm, brown eyes from her scorching, hazel ones. Better than breaking eye-contact then freaking out.

"Do 'ya?" Apparently, the question was not rhetorical, and Reid couldn't help but wince.

"Answer me!" She ordered, her voice dropping an octave or two.

She quickly got to her feet and started sharp kicks to his sides, demanding an answer. But when she kept kicking, and kicking, he couldn't talk if he wanted to. It immediately reminded him of an old, wooden shack he was held captive in for two days. The beatings hurt just as much, if not more painful, but he hadn't been beaten by a deranged UnSub in over five years, so it felt so much worse.

He whimpered as she continued kicking his torso over and over. And she didn't stop until she heard a satisfying _crack_ when her boot injured one of his ribs on his right.

Reid, being the expert profiler that he was, knew that she wanted to hear his screams, his pleas, and it would only fuel her ego if he gave into her demands.

But that didn't stop him from letting out an ear-splitting scream.

She clapped her hands, ignoring the sobbing coming from the woman who was holding her wailing child. The other captives were staring, wide-eyed at the poor man on the cold floor. But none of them made a move to help him, all of them far too concerned about their own safety.

"Bravo, Spencey! _Magnificent_!"

She bent down to brush some hair out of Reid's bleeding and sweaty face, and whispered, "And let the games begin."

Quickly getting to her feet, she ran over to a corner in the back of the room, grabbed a bag, and ran back towards her team members.

"Alright, everyone. Make sure you look good for the cameras!"

Colored contacts were passed around, including wigs, masks, and makeup. Selena passed duck-tape around as well, not wanting to let the hostages roam free anymore.

She smirked evilly, and grabbed her fellow female's arm before she turned away.

"Don't forget our secret weapon, Luna," she spoke in a low voice, not wanting their hostages to overhear.

Luna looked at her, her blue eyes confused for a moment, before they widened slightly and she scampered off to get it.

Selena smiled, rather pleased with herself, and took out the last roll of duck-tape. Looking at the other hostages, she was glad they were taken care of._ Now it was just Spencey's turn._

Practically skipping over to Reid, she knelt down and placed an end of tape on one of his ankles and wrapped it around both legs for a long time. Satisfied that he could not move his legs, ripped off a smaller piece and placed it over his lips.

He appeared to be very groggy and barely conscious, not even realizing what she was doing.

Selena sighed and jumped back to her feet to prepare herself for the "games."

* * *

May 16, 2012; 2:23 P.M.

The team, all busy with setting up their surrogate headquarters, failed to notice a faint ring. The officers gratefully let them handle the situation, understanding how hard some cases were, especially when it involved one of their own.

The light shone down on the overcrowded parking lot. Snoopy reporters kept trying to get closer to the FBI Agents, demanding statements and leads. Most of them tried to jump over the police tape they had set up, but, thankfully, the long line of police officers stopped anyone from getting too far.

Innocent bystanders stood close to the tape as well, their curiosity peeked.

The BAU had the other half of the parking lot to themselves, and they decided to set up a large tent to avoid being seen. They needed concentration to do their jobs, and it was kind-of hard to do with everyone watching them.

* * *

Selena waited, taping her nails against a desk. It was only a matter of time before they picked up, and when they did...

* * *

Prentiss heard the faint ring again, and set down a blue print of the bank on a nearby table. Looking around, she noticed Rossi's cellphone buzzing quietly.

"Uh, Rossi?" She looked over at the older man, quite confused.

"Yeah?" he asked, finishing up setting up the last table.

"Is," She hesitated for a moment, wondering who was calling Rossi, "-is that your phone?"

* * *

She sighed and shook her head. _Typical._

Snapping her fingers, she summoned her youngest to join her.

He slowly walked up to his leader, the big gun in his hands feeling foreign. He didn't understand why he had to hold this thing if he was just going to help them out a bit.

"What's up?" he asked.

"I need you to do something for me," Damn. She was giving him the puppy eyes; even through the hideous, black mask he could see them staring at him.

"What is it?" he sighed, just wanting to go home. He couldn't believed he got dragged into this.

She visibly perked up and clapped her hands briefly before turning serious once more.

"Okay, can you hack into a computer for me?"

He stared at her cautiously before asking the question he knew he would regret, "Whose computer?"

* * *

"Uh, yeah?" Rossi said, impatience in his voice.

"Well, shouldn't you-" The ringing abruptly stopped, and Rossi just raised his signature eyebrow at her before reaching for his phone.

Looking through his messages, his stomach dropped.

"Oh my God," he whispered, cradling his phone as if it was one of his most prized possessions.

Morgan came back from outside the tent, his face set in a frown.

"Those people are animals, man. Poor JJ is getting eaten alive out there," he informed them, shaking his head. Poor JJ, indeed. The young blonde was currently trying to calm down an ever-growing crowd with Hotch as her bodyguard.

Prentiss nodded, still looking at Rossi.

"Rossi?" she asked gently.

"It was Reid," He finally looked up at them, his brown eyes suddenly looking very panicked.

"What? Reid? What?" Morgan switched his gaze from Prentiss to Rossi, trying to get answers to what he missed out on while he was outside.

"It was Reid," he proclaimed a bit more forcefully, still looking at the both of them.

"_Reid?_ It was Reid's phone? But, how," She trailed off, her eyes widening. _Oh, no. No, no, no, no._

"It was the UnSub," Morgan's eyes widened as well when he heard the older man try to explain, "he was trying to contact us, and we missed it. We missed him. _I_ missed him."

* * *

"You almost done, Tony?" She leaned on the back of his chair, enjoying the way she could make him squirm. He was such a _squirmy_ little guy.

"Yeah, just a minute," he mumbled, his fingers still flying around the keyboard of his laptop.

She nodded, and kept leaning over the back of his chair, signaling that he should _really_ hurry up.

Sighing, he increased his speed and didn't stop until he heard a small ding on the laptop.

"Okay, Selena. It's all your's,"

Smiling, she ruffled his hair before snatching the laptop away from him. Resuming her position by one of the desks, she couldn't help but smile again as she stared at the terrified employee's faces. She didn't want them near everyone else; they weren't a part of her plan.

Rubbing her hands together, she quickly thought of a plan. Grinning evilly once one came to her, she quickly started to type.

* * *

Garcia came in the tent, Hotch and JJ trailing behind her.

"Anything new?" JJ rubbed her temples, obviously starting to get very stressed out. No one could blame her, though. After all, the media was the exact definition of the word "animal."

Morgan tried to say something, but was stopped by Garcia's horrified gasp.

She had pulled up a chair and settled her laptop on the middle table, trying to get into the security cameras. Something appeared to be wrong, though.

"Baby Girl, what's up?" Morgan moved near Garcia, and gasped himself.

A person with an unidentifiable gender was staring back at them through the laptop, their blue eyes narrowed at them.

"Why, hello, BAU agents! I believe I have something of your's," She chuckled at their horrified faces.

"Where's the rest of the team, hm? Where's Mr. Boss-guy," Her voice was disguised, of course- she wouldn't want to ruin a surprise.

Hotch quickly moved into the UnSub's line of vision.

"Yes?"

"Ah, there he is. The man in the suit himself! I have lots of plans for you, Boss Man," she smirked when Garcia's face looked a bit pale, "but right now, this is about little Spencey. And, of course, the other hostages. Wouldn't want to forget about them, would we?"

"Anyways, I have a little game set up for you BAU agents. As you can tell, I do have hostages. And I do not intend to kill them, simply play a little game. A fun game. That involves you clever agents. You see, I like games. I love them, in fact. So, we are going to play one. My team against your's. Your goal is to get all of these hostages out of here alive within six hours. If you don't," She cut off momentarily, smiling inside her mask when Morgan balled his fists together, "Well, we all know what will happen, right? And just to be sure everyone's watch is correct..."

They saw her go off camera for a minute before coming back, holding a strange device with four large numbers on it; 00:00:00.

She hit a button and everyone sucked in a breath as it started counting down.

"Let the games _begin_!"

_5:59:59_

_5:59:58. . ._

* * *

**I'm mean, I know. **

**Selena reminds me of, like, a female Joker.**

**Thanks for reading, and reviews are awesome! **


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